Superlock
by willwriteforcoffee
Summary: A newly-human Cas convinces Dean to invite a depressed John Watson along on one of his hunting trips, convinced that Sherlock just may be alive.
1. A Man Talking to a Skull

**Author's Note: **This is my very first attempt at writing a fanfic. Hopefully _someone_ will like it. If they do, I will continue writing the story. Any reviews are greatly appreciated :D

**Chapter One: A Man Talking to a Skull**

"_Just get rid of it, dearie. It pains you to look at it; I can see it in your eyes."_

"If only it were that easy, Mrs. Hudson," John Watson thought to himself, reflecting back on the conversation the two of them had in the flat earlier that day. She had wanted him to throw away Sherlock's trusty skull, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I'm sorry, is that a skull?" asked Dean Winchester from beside him. The unfamiliar male voice shook John from his reverie. Suddenly he was back at the bar, a half-empty glass in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Castiel whispered to Dean.

He turned to face Cas. It had been months since the last time he saw him wear a trench coat, but Dean still couldn't get over the sight of him without it. "I'm asking the man why he brought a skull into a bar. I don't know about you, but I find that a little weird."

"Can't you see he's upset?"

Before Dean could reply, the bartender, a woman named Joyce, appeared before them. She stared at John as she refilled his glass of whiskey. "I know you from somewhere," she affirmed.

"I doubt it," John dismissed.

Joyce peered closely at him. "You're that detective, Sherlock Holmes. No, wait, his partner." Her face lit up with recognition. "You're John Watson. I remember reading an article about you while on vacation in London. What are you doing all the way here in Connecticut? And where is that genius friend of yours, anyway?"

"He's dead," John replied flatly.

She blanched. "I'm…I'm so sorry to hear that." Joyce offered him an apologetic smile before scampering to the other end of the bar.

_Holmes. _Castiel frowned at the name. It sounded awfully familiar. "Say something to him," Cas urged.

"Say what?" Dean asked. "You really haven't adjusted to the whole human thing yet, have you? Can't you see he wants to be alone?"

"The man is talking to a skull. He clearly wants company."

"As fun as it sounds, we don't really have time to stay and chat. We're supposed to be meeting up with Sammy. We should probably get going now actually…" He stood up to leave.

"He might be able to help us," Cas suggested. "Besides, Sam is meeting us here."

"Help us how? By spiraling us into depression? I don't think so."

Cas fixed him with a tender expression. "What if it were you sitting there?"

"I would tell us to leave me the hell alone."

"What if it were Sam? If he was sitting alone at a bar in complete desolation wouldn't you want someone to…care?"

Dean set his jaw. "Fine. But if he starts speaking for the skull, I'm out of here." Dean straddled the stool next to the man. Cas claimed the seat on the other side of him.

"We were hoping you could help us," Dean announced.

John glanced at him for a fraction of a second before returning his gaze to his glass. "We…I don't do that anymore."

"You don't help people?" Dean snapped. Cas elbowed him.

"Cases. I don't do cases anymore." John pushed himself into a standing position.

"Even if we agree to help you find your partner?" Dean was surprised to hear Cas speak.

"Sherlock is dead," John insisted.

Castiel's face softened. "What if he's not?"


	2. We're Just Friends

**Chapter Two: We're Just Friends**

"I watched my best friend fall sixty feet to his death, and you're going to lie and tell me that he is still alive so that I'll help you?'

Dean had to agree with the man. "That is pretty sick, Cas."

Castiel gave him a look. "Angels don't lie." There was an uncomfortable silence as he recognized his mistake. Pain stabbed at his chest. Dean reached out and comfortingly rubbed his shoulder.

John darted his eyes back and forth between them. "Are you two…?"

Realization dawned on Dean's face and he pulled his hand away. "No. No, absolutely not. We're just friends."

John didn't appear convinced. "It's alright if you are."

"For the last time, there is nothing going on between us."

Cas cocked his head to the side. "For the last time?" he pondered.

Dean stalked out of the bar without paying for his drinks.

"Why do you get to be the one to storm out?" Cas called after him. "If anyone has a right to be upset about this, it should be me." He followed Dean out the door.

"Don't even worry about it," John grumbled facetiously to himself. "I've got your bill covered." He tossed enough money on the bar for all of their drinks and slipped the bartender a tip before limping outside. The first thing he noticed was the two men bickering. He felt a pang in his heart. The sight brought back memories of him and Sherlock.

He wanted to escape before they noticed, but something stopped him. If there was even a slight possibility that Sherlock was still alive, he had to pursue it. As he approached the two men, they both stopped talking but continued to fight with their eyes.

"I really don't see how I can help the two of you, but I am willing to do anything I can. Please, just tell me what you know." John stared expectantly at Dean.

Dean held up his hands. "Don't look at me. I have no idea what Cas is talking about." He leaned against the side of his Impala, his arms folded across his chest. "I'm just as curious as you are."

Castiel avoided eye contact with both of them. "I think maybe we should wait for Sam."

"Excuse us one moment." Dean pulled him out of earshot. "Why?"

"In John's fragile state, I'd rather not freak him out and Sam is better at explaining things than we are."

"Since when?"

"Dean, you're far too blunt when it comes to telling people about the supernatural. I don't want you to frighten him."

A smug smile appeared on his lips. "You think I'm scary?"

Choosing not to dignify that with a response, Castiel returned to John's side. Before he could think of something to say to him, a taxi pulled up to the curb. It was Sam in the backseat, he was sure of it. There was no mistaking that hair.

"Dean, stay here with John. I'll be right back."

Sam was surprised to see Castiel approaching him. "What's going on?" Castiel explained to him the entire situation. Realizing he had been leaning forward, he stood up straight. "And you want _me _to break it to him?" Sam asked, after he was finished speaking.

"It's a lot to take in, but maybe he'll believe you."

When they returned to the Impala, Dean narrowed his eyes at them. He hated feeling out of the loop.

Sam sighed. "I know Castiel wants me to ease into it, but I really don't know how else to say it but just to say it. John, Sherlock is still alive. His brother, Mycroft, sold his soul to a Crossroad Demon in exchange for bringing him back to life."


End file.
